


Purple Haze

by AndySkull



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drug Use, Drugged Sex, F/M, Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndySkull/pseuds/AndySkull
Summary: Sherlock and Irene discover what drugged sex is like.





	Purple Haze

“We agreed on the payment! I need the money!” Yes, they needed the money. Being undercover and plotting to disband Moriarty’s network wasn’t an easy job, neither was it cheap.

“Look, man, I don’t have the rest of the cash, but…” The young rascal gazed suspicious his surroundings. “I have something else you might like.”

“He paid you in pot?” It sounded more like an exclamation than a question.

* * *

“Yes, I know, but he didn’t have the money and… It was a dead end. It’s what we have now.”

“And what are we supposed to make of it? Sell it ourselves to get the money?” Irene reproached.

“Actually, I thought we could… well, you know…”

“Smoke it?” Irene finished for him, incredulously. Sherlock nodded innocently. Irene seemed to meditate for a bit. “I’ve never seen a purple one before.”

A dense and soft cloud of smoke floated carelessly around, blocking their view of the roof. They just sat, relaxed, staring at the cloud, enjoying the taste of the last drag as it drove them quickly into a different state of mind.

“When was the last time you had this?” That was not what Sherlock intended to ask. “No, when was the first? No, the last. I mean…” He tried to correct himself, but the pot was quickly claiming his mind and he lingered there confuse.

“A while ago actually.” Irene laughed playfully. She noticed Sherlock’s erratic behavior. “I had it a few times when I was at University. Few parties and small gatherings. Not a big deal really. Last time was about….. About… No, I can’t remember.”

“What is it you can’t remember?”

“I don’t know. That thing you asked me.”

“What did I ask you?”

“I…. I don’t remember.” Irene was honestly confused.

“What did I ask you?” repeated Sherlock with an enormous grin. At which both exploded in scandalous and uncontrollable laughter

“Last time I had pot!” Exclaimed Irene, suddenly remembering and silencing their dwindling laughs.

“There was this time,” Sherlock began. “I found Ms Hudson secret supply. Good stuff…”

He carried on with the story, which was a long, funny and interesting. The only problem was Irene feeling herself being dragged out of her physical body. Sherlock was speaking and she was trying to pay attention, but his voice was becoming numb every second that passed. Everything in her surroundings was drawing away, slowly, everything becoming numb, far away, hazy.

“Still here?” Sherlock asked, shaking her shoulder tenderly. Irene recovered her focus and felt herself land on the couch again. Sherlock laughed softly, even tenderly. “You zoned out, right? Are you feeling ok?” A silly smile was plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I zoned out a bit.” Irene laughed. “I’m having trouble focusing…”

“Mmhm, yes, you are all blurry and… hazy,” he admitted, letting his gaze rest on her features. “There’s something that I… I have never…” Watching him having trouble expressing his thoughts, Irene cradled near him and caressing his cheek in clumsy moves.

“You can tell me.” She could tell both were far too high right now.

“I want to do something I’ve never done before, being high, like now.” His gaze dropped to her legs, trailed up to her waist where he laid his hand. Making eye contact, Irene read the lust on his eyes.

“What are we waiting for then?” She flirted.

The kiss felt like two world colliding and after they tilted their heads to find the perfect angle, they melted into each other. Neither had any idea of how much time they sat there kissing, just kissing, feeling the warmth, the passion, the lust. Only kissing, tasting, feeling. When they gasped for air, their hearts were racing, burning with a heat that grew inside them and reached the surface of their skin, screaming for them to get rid of their clothes. Clumsy hands, confused moves, missed intents and the discarded clothes fell to the floor.

Like a trace of smoke floating through, both lovers moved to the room and fell onto the bed, into the soft and comfortable embrace of sheets and mattress. They fell into an abyss, where there was no up or down, no support, only their arms wrapped around each other. Arms that ended in hands, hands that touched, caressed, scratched, squished.  

They looked into each other’s eyes, deeply. Acknowledging their lust, their desires and maybe something else. They kissed, they touched, they felt each other with their hands, with their lips. Every time a piece of skin was caressed, bit, licked or sucked a tingling sensation was left behind. Lips doing the hands job, building lust, claiming desire. Now their tongues licked necks, teeth bit shoulders, legs wrapped on hips and suddenly Irene was ready to straddle him.

Their eyes met as she slowly went down, enjoying the feeling his penetration provoked; An explosive warmth that caused a loud moan erupt from them. An electric bolt pierced her body every time she went down on him, feeling hot and cold at the same time. She kept a steady pace, up and down, forth and backward. She let her head fell backward, exposing her chest, arching her back, proud, upright, like a queen, like a goddess. She moaned, loud; Sherlock moaned even louder.

Riding him steadily, Irene allowed herself to get lost in the feeling. That obliterating haze, the passion of the act, the sex itself, it all built up a surrealist dream made of smoke, sweat, and moans. The smell of the pot still lingered in the air, on their bodies, provoking a shivering sensation all the way down her body.

Neither of them took notice of the time, how long had they been making love? Only when Irene’s moves became erratic and Sherlock aided her by grabbing her hips and leading her moves. Slow but deep, she tightens around him, driving them both to the long wanted release. Bodies tensed, moans roared. Irene looked for support on Sherlock’s chest, digging her nails hard into his flesh. Sherlock’s grips on Irene’s hips became strong and accelerated her pace. Both moaned and nearly crossed the line of yelling. They orgasmed at the same time. Long, loud, powerful, intense…

“I thought I was going to faint,” said Irene with a smirk when she regains her breath again. Sherlock laughed softly and helped her get under the sheets. Both were sweating, but the activities had drained all their remaining strength.

“I thought I died at some point and was brought back to life when I came,” He held her on a gently embrace, so soft and loving.

Relaxing into his embrace, Irene reflected on Sherlock’s behavior that night. During this trip with pot, he had been uninhibited, lustful, playful, straightforward, even a bit filthy, mostly with words. In spite of the uncommon behavior, She knew he was all that underneath his impenetrable facade, the pot only helped to release all that easily. It was intimacy, beyond just sex.

It was him exposed.


End file.
